Thank you soooo much to my wonderful reviewers!! You guys are AMAZING! :) Please continue to give feedback...how do you think Luna's character is developing? Is she believable? There's lotsa Joker in these next few chapters...am I writing him okay? Thank's so much!!

I own nothing...but Luna, so no one sue me!

Luna's POV.

I hugged my knees tightly to my chest, my only source of comfort. Hot tears burned my eyes as I heard the door slam behind him. I didn't even bother to glance up to find out where he had taken me. I new it was some creepy abandoned where house because, for some reason, the Joker seemed to have a certain knack for creepy old where house's. Why, I don't think I'll ever figure out. But then again it is the Joker were talking about…he doesn't need a reason for anything, he just "does things" as he so bluntly put it, sticking a knife in my mouth when I had stupidly ask why he was doing this. Luckily, it barely even broke the skin before he quickly pulled it out, causing a slight amount of red liquid to ease out of the tender tissue in my inner cheek. Still, fear haunted my every nerve.

He terrified me. Then again…he is the Joker, a psychotic killer clown who randomly goes around slaughtering innocent people for the mere sake of it. His presence would terrify anyone in their right mind; either you were insane, like him, or you were Batman, who doesn't seem to be afraid of anything. What I hadn't figured out is why he hadn't already killed me? What was he waiting for? What could he possibly gain from kidnapping an 8 year old little girl? Then again…he did not look like a guy with a plan…maybe he was just winging it, for some sick amusement, or perhaps he wanted to use me for tormenting purposes for his demented little "games".

Either way, I new I had to get out of their before something really bad happened, perhaps a fate even worse then death itself…wow some of these are pretty morbid thought's for a little girl huh?

My head suddenly snapped to look up at the sound of a huge roar of thunder, so loud it shook the rigid building with ease. Oh great…as if things weren't bad enough. If I didn't die by the hands, err, gloves, of the Joker then there was always the option of a tree crushing the where house, or getting swooped up into the air like in that one tornado movie mommy let me watch. Great…

I let out a small whimper. Storms were one of my biggest fears. Holding my knees in a death grip, I closed my eyes tightly, desperately trying to create the illusion that me and mom were safely at Auntie Rachel's, baking cookers or watching an evening blockbuster. Oh how I hate it when reality is forced to set in and you snap your eyes open to face the terrible nightmare you want nothing more then to runaway from.

Yep you guessed it…

The huge black door flew open to reveal the only person --if you could even call him that-- I feared even more then the storm.

The Joker

"Well…well…well…what do we have here? Lemme get this straight princess… Could it be that you're all bunched up in that dusty little corner because you're, uh, cowering from the big mean stormy storm?"

His cold voice was taunting me again. I would have glared at him if I wasn't so scared. The only thing I found I could do was bury my face within my knees and pretend this wasn't happening. Of course that lasted a whole 10 seconds before I heard the shrill yell of his vocal chords practically scream out,

"LOOK AT ME!"

I immediately obeyed, though my whole body had begun to shake in terror. I could not control it. It was simply a natural reaction to having your head bitten off for merely not looking at someone, figuratively speaking of course, having the misfortune of being trapped in a room with a mass murderer, and the slight chance of getting blown away in the storm…

"I-I'm afraid of storms." I managed to whisper, using every ounce of will power to force the words out of my stubborn mouth. It may have been easier to talk if I had not caught site of his eyes…in the dark room, they sparkled in the eerie blue light of the fading moon and made even the hairs on my arm stand on end. Looking in his eyes I saw nothing but pure and utter emptiness coated with anger, hatred and a disturbed kind of amusement. For a moment or so I dared to believe there was something more, but that thought quickly vanished when he started speaking again.

"Afraid of storms, hmm? I suppose that's, uh, understandable, I suppose for a girl as…young and frail as yourself. Because that's what little girls are…Suger…Spice…and everything NiceS…aren't they Lu?"

"I-I guess." I replied, unsure if it may have been pushing it even to say anything at all, anymore more that is, but judging from random news stories he seemed to enjoy it when his victims held a conversation with him.

It kept them alive a little longer at least, some of them even long enough for the Bat to save them. Most of them were too afraid to speak…and for good reason, but I was getting to the point where I finally came to the conclusion 'Well, he already said he wouldn't kill me, that is if I play by his rules, but that didn't mean I couldn't speak to him.' Besides, I was secretly hoping it would take my mind off the storm, and my ever growing depression. So far it was working…the longer I stared into the Joker's horrifying gaze; the more it made the storm seem more like a light sprinkle. Still, I made it a mental note to watch my words…

The Joker licked his lips for what seemed like (and probably was) the hundredth time this evening. He nodded. I gotta admit, again he would have looked kinda innocent if he weren't… well…him. But for the Joker, something like that was near impossible.

"Glad to see we're on the same page." He said it so casually, as if we were two friends's having a friendly conversation over tea or something. Eh…minus the manic grin, that is.

"But ya know what I don't like? I don't like it when little girls are scared…no…noT at all. Because then they don't... smile and It's just so…just so….Sad.

"Especially one as beautiful as yourself, but, then again beauty doesn't mean a thing if your not…Happy." He pulled out his switchblade and I let out a quiet gasp, edging as close to the wall as I possibly could in a hopeless attempt to create space between us.

"Uh, speaking of which, do you wanna know how I got these scars?" He gestured to the two horrible lines that stretched from cheek to cheek from either side of his lips, making it appear as if he were forever smiling. I could see the hate…the anger in his eyes, the passionate fury towards whoever had done the horrid deed that made him the way he is today. Of course the person, whoever did it, was probably dead by now and more then likely had suffered a great deal before their finally demise.

This is just great…he had finally asked me the same horrible question he had asked countless before…right before he permanently marked them with his "signature smile" oh no…no way was I going to be one of them. Swallowing my emotions, I faked the biggest grin I could.

"Sure, ya know what? I-I would love to hear the story of how you got your….umm… scars. That is…if you c-could please be so kind as to put the blade away. See? There's no need, I-I'm smiling. I'm ha-happy…" I was rambling. I rambled when I was nervous or excited. It was a hard habit to break once you started…in this case, I was hoping beyond hope that it would somehow play a role in saving my unscarred face.

He stared at me or a moment or so as if I had just grown another head. I continued to smile nervously while he dropped the small switchblade near my feet and fell with a thud to the floor, combusting into hysterical laughter…it freaked me out, the way he could laugh and laugh for hours on end over absolutely nothing or the most disturbing things in the world, though I tried my best not to show it. I had realized in the short time of being his hostage that he only fed on fear, as most movie-villains did.

"Now were getting somewhere! Ya know what I've noticed? Most of the hostages I kidnap never…-talk- to me…and it can get so darn…lonely around this place." He jeered, sitting up quickly and edging a little closer to my place in the corner. So much for the whole 'my bubble' concept...

"Not to mention boring…it just hurt's my feeling's, I mean, --here I am, going through all this… -trouble- bringing them to my humble facility's and all, just for them to sit there and clam up. It can really depress a guy; you know what I'm saying Luna?"

I stared at him. Unsure of how to respond for a moment or so but the joker was not a patient man so I had better come up with something fast.

"Umm...well…my mother always told me it was polite to make good conversation. She said it added people skills but I'm pretty sure she was just trying to make a good impression on her boss and she didn't want a 'little kid' ruining it for her." If he wanted to play, I had no problems joining the game; according to him it would increase my chances of survival.

"But anyways, that's not really important. Tell me the story of your umm…scars, Mr. Joker."

I made it a point to keep a fake grin plastered across my face through the entire sentence. I crossed my legs Indian style, finally loosening up a little, and placed my hands gently within my lap, probably looking more like a psychiatrist then a terrified hostage, but I was a good enough actor and, for now, had managed to keep my emotions at bay.

He turned to me…if possible, a confused look slowly gracing his painted features, though it vanished a moment later with a cruel glare, followed by a grin that stretched almost to his ears.

"Ya really wanna know?" He nodded vigorously, holing one finger up as if to add dramatic effect.

"I'm curious." I replied simply, knowing he'd tell me weather I wanted to know or not sooner or later, might as well get it over with.

"Okay…weeeell, once upon a time in a land not so far away from here…"

I could not help but let a slight giggle slip through my lips at the way he told the tragic tale as if it were some sort of fairytale. He noticed this and paused to glare at me, holding up a silver blade that shimmered in the pale light of the room.

"Sorry." I mumbled, staring at the floor.

As if he were bipolar, his face suddenly broke into a grin.

"Now how would you like if I laughed at your story? Hmm?" He cupped my face in one gloved hand and forced me to look at his face. "Hey…look at me." He said it in a malicious whisper; it was odd really, how his emotions could go from one extreme to the next in a matter of seconds. It terrified me. I let out a quiet gasp. "I-I'm sorry." I murmured, trembling under his intense stare.

In a moment, he was back to his creepily calm self.

"Now where was I..? Oh I remember… There in that land lived…a family. Now, this particular family were no different then any other, it consisted of…a mom, a dad and then there was little 'ol me. Ya see I was an only child." He took a deep raspy breathe before continuing. I sat there listening intently to every word he spoke. This could be interesting.

"Well, growing up, I was the uh, oddball out, so to speak...-the kids- ...never really liked me. NoT.One.BiT. They called me a freak a weirdo all because my best friend was a little girl, like you. Come to think of it, she had a face that looked kinda like yours….."

I know this may seem like an odd way to end a chapter, but it sorta continues into the next one so don't worry. :)